


A Snack Before Dinner

by Gaffsie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickies, Spit As Lube, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 21:23:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18302204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaffsie/pseuds/Gaffsie
Summary: Jughead's making dinner, but Sweet Pea's not hungry for food.Written forthiskinkmeme prompt.





	A Snack Before Dinner

Some days, Sweet Pea comes home from work, takes a long hard look at his life, and marvels at it.

 

It doesn't have to be a big thing that brings on those flashes of wonder; it can be anything from the sight of a bouquet of flowers on the dining room table a grateful client has sent to him, to his boyfriend hunched in front of the shiny new laptop Sweet Pea got him for his birthday, brows furrowed in concentration as he writes.

 

He wonders if it ever will stop amaze him, how far he and Jughead has come.

 

Today, the sight that greets him when he walks in through the door inspires him in a different direction.

 

FP is coming over for dinner, a bi-weekly tradition since the two of them moved to the city, and Jughead is cooking, stirring what looks like a pot of tomato sauce. Jughead cooking isn't unusual in itself. Since Sweet Pea's job can be pretty demanding, and Jughead works from home anyway, he's usually the one doing the cooking.

 

He's usually wearing a lot more clothes though.

 

Sweet Pea rakes his eyes over him, from his hair, which is tame and slicked back, still slightly wet from the shower, to his bare back, to the way his black boxer briefs cling to his trim little ass, and all the way down to his feet, clad in cheerful snake-patterned socks.

 

Sweet Pea had gotten them for him on a whim last week, and Jughead had pretended to be annoyed, but Sweet Pea knows he secretly loves all the dumb little gag gifts Sweet Pea gets him. Probably comes from not having much growing up. Sweet Pea is the same with physical affection, making up for all the cuddles he never got as a child now, relishing all the sweet little ways Jughead touches him.

 

He gives a wolf-whistle, smirking a little when Jughead throws him an annoyed glance over his shoulder.

 

“You're the best housewife a man could ask for,” Sweet Pea says, and Jughead scoffs.

 

“Fuck off,” he tells him, cheerfully, and goes back to stirring the pot.

 

Sweet Pea walks up behind him, putting his hands on Jughead's waist and placing a kiss just under his ear.

 

“Smells good,” he says, and he's not talking about the sauce.

 

It does smell delicious, hints of basil and garlic wafting up, but right now he's more interested in the way Jughead smells slightly of cedar.

 

“You used my soap again,” he says, a little accusatory. “You know what that does to me.”

 

“I'd used up mine,” Jughead says, sighing a little when Sweet Pea nips at his earlobe.

 

“You about done here?” Sweet Pea asks, restless hands wandering down to Jughead's hips, thumbs pushing down at the elastic of the boxers.

  
“Yeah, I was just about to get dressed,” Jughead says. Sweet Pea pushes his hips closer against his ass, grinds a little, letting Jughead feel his hardening dick.

 

“Sweets,” Jughead complains, “dad's gonna be here any minute now. This is not the time.”

 

Sweet Pea smiles smugly against Jughead's neck. “It's always the time,” he says, simply.

  
“Sweets,” Jughead says again, but Sweet Pea can tell that his heart isn't in it.

 

He kisses his neck, sucking a little at the skin there, knowing that it always gets Jughead hot, one hand moving to the front of his boxers, teasing his dick through the thin fabric, feeling it stiffen under his fingers.

 

“Later,” Jughead says, sounding a little breathless now, subconsciously grinding back against Sweet Pea's hips, but still stubbornly holding onto the spoon.

 

Sweet Pea hums in agreement, even as he kisses Jughead right under the hinge of his jaw, and his hand rubs Jughead to complete hardness though his underwear; he can feel a small wet spot forming from the precome, and he smiles a little to himself, knowing that Jughead can feel the smug shape of his lips against his neck.

 

He moves his other hand up to Jughead's chest, playing with a nipple until it too is stiff, and then up to Jughead's mouth. His lips are stubbornly closed, but sticking his hand down Jughead's boxers, and finally giving him a real stroke, root to tip, solves that problem. Jughead's mouth open on a moan, and Sweet Pea pushes in with his fingers, pressing down on his tongue until Jughead's sucking on them.

 

He thinks of that old Christina Auigilera song and it's a struggle not to laugh. _Gotta rub me the right way_ , he thinks.

 

He keeps working Jughead's dick, using the twisting motion he knows Jughead likes, making Jughead moan around the thick fingers in his mouth.

 

“Against the counter,” Sweet Pea tells him, and Jughead nods, his soft hair brushing Sweet Pea's cheek. He finally drops the spoon, lets it fall on the floor with clattering sound, sauce splattering over the floor but not caring, and lets Sweet Pea manhandle him the few steps over to the counter, away from the hot stove.

 

He goes down on his elbows easily enough, letting Sweet Pea pull down his underwear, and kicking it off when it dangles around his leg.

 

Jughead looks like a whole god-damned meal like this, and part of Sweet Pea wishes he could take his time, just pretend they're not home when FP rings the doorbell, finger him until he's begging for more, maybe eat him out, have him come like that, and then fuck him.

 

Another, more insistent, part of him just wants to get inside him, get that tight heat around his dick.

 

He grabs a fistful of Jughead's hair, tugs at it to get his attention, dick twitching at the way that small action makes Jughead whimper.

 

“Get them wet,” he says, pushing his fingers inside his mouth again, Jughead opening his lips easily this time, slurping messily around the digits, covering them with spit.

 

Sweet Pea's usually good about using lube, making the glide easy and smooth, but there's something to be said for using saliva as well. He has to be more gentle like this, but by now Jughead is well trained, relaxing into his ministrations, and accepting Sweet Pea's fingers easily, moaning softly whenever Sweet Pea brushes against his prostate.

 

He gives him a perfunctory fingering, just opening him up as much as necessary, and then he pulls out, opens his belt and fly and works his hard cock out over the elastic of his boxers.

 

There's something delicious about doing it like this, Jughead completely naked but for his socks, and him still dressed in his suit from the office. He's still wearing his _tie_ for fuck's sake.

 

“Lick,” he says, reaching out and putting his palm in front of Jughead's mouth. Jughead, obedient now, licks until his palm is damp with saliva. It would be gross if it wasn't so hot.

 

Sweet Pea gets his dry hand on Jughead's ass, framing his hole, still looking impossibly tight, and with the other he jacks himself, a little indulgently. It's not like he wasn't hard enough to cut diamonds to begin with.

 

He's careful pushing in, the friction just on the right side of too much. Jughead must agree, because he moans helplessly, voice almost breaking when Sweet Pea's all the way inside, and the metal of his zipper is rubbing against Jughead's bare ass.

 

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing comforting circles on Jughead's back.

  
“Yeah,” Jughead says, a little breathy.

 

Sweet Pea gets a good grip on his waist, and then he fucks him.

 

Jughead feels so fucking tight like this, his hole practically clutching at Sweet Pea's dick, so Sweet Pea gives it to him nice and smooth, his hips rhythmically slapping against Jughead's ass, chasing all those little little sounds Jughead keeps making, profanities and moans falling from his lips in a steady stream. His head is hanging now, like it's just too much effort keeping it up, and Sweet Pea loves him like this, loves it when he stops _thinking_ so much and just gets lost in the pleasure.

 

“That's right, baby, take it,” Sweet Pea grunts, angling his next thrust just _so_.

 

Jughead moans gratefully, and if they weren't in a hurry, he'd make him come like that, untouched. It's always an ego-trip when he manages, but there's no _time_ so he gives him a reach-around instead, jerking him off as he fucks him, his thumb spreading precome around the tip, teasing the glans the way he knows he likes.

 

Jughead comes with a grunt, tensing in Sweet Pea's arms, and spurting all over his hand, and Sweet Pea's not far behind, his vision blurring as he empties his balls inside Jughead's ass.

 

He wipes his come-sticky hand on Jughead's hip, a little distractedly, and pulls out. Jughead's breathing hard, still a little bit out of it. His back is shiny with sweat, hair starting to fray, and Sweet Pea feels a weird sense of accomplishment at the sight.

 

He's about to say something smooth, but then the intercom buzzes, and Jughead whirls around, looking at Sweet Pea with wide eyes.

 

“It's my dad,” he says, a little panicky now, but there's a glint in his eyes, the 'shit's about to go down, time to make a plan' look that Sweet Pea's very familiar with after being his Serpent second in command back in the bad old days.

 

“Buzz him in, and get yourself cleaned up,” Jughead orders, raking a hand through his hair as he thinks. “Your suit is a little wrinkled looking, but you're passable. I smell like a the aisle in a porno theater, so I need to shower.” He gives Sweet Pea an annoyed glance. “ _Again_ ,” he adds, pointedly.

 

“Sure thing, boss,” Sweet Pea says, a little amused by how quickly Jughead's able to change gears.

 

Jughead scowls at him, but he still gives him a quick peck on the lips before he stalks off to their bathroom.

 

“Don't forget your underwear,” Sweet Pea calls after him.

 

“Why don't you just stick them up your ass,” Jughead grumbles, but he comes back, and in extremely bad grace, he bends down and picks them up from the floor.

 

The intercom buzzes again, and Jughead points at it, eyebrow raised in a silent demand.

 

Sweet Pea drags his feet a little, just to be an ass.

 

He'll buzz FP in, wash his hands, tuck his dick back inside his pants, remove his jacket and tie, and once FP makes it up to their floor, they'll both entertain the polite fiction that Jughead's dad doesn't know why Sweet Pea is rumpled and still buzzing with endorphins and his son is in the shower.

 

It's a good thing, Sweet Pea thinks, that FP likes him.

 


End file.
